The Wedding of the Year
by DragonLady37
Summary: "Granger," he said, his voice low. "Think we can make it all the way down the aisle without killing each other?" He smirked, his tone of voice playful. He offered her his arm, and she took it, somehow feeling a bit more at ease. "I give it a 50% possibility," she said, and he chuckled. "If nothing else, it'll make a good show, yeah?" / Dramione, EWE


**Originally chapter 4 of my collection of one-shots called "Snippets." A fun little Dramione fic for you! Rated T!**

**JK Rowling is my queen!**

* * *

Ronald Weasley's wedding took place on a beautiful summer day. Birds were singing. The flowers were in bloom and magically enhanced so that their scent was everywhere. Ron was dressed to the nines in the most expensive silk dress robes galleons could buy, and his bride, Daphne Greengrass, wore a one-of-a-kind, handmade gown that rivaled the dress of any princess, designed by Pansy Parkinson herself. _The Daily Prophet_ was there and well over 500 guests. It was, without a doubt, the wedding of the year.

As the couple prepared for the ceremony in separate rooms, Hermione - who had been asked to be a bridesmaid as what she assumed was a favor to the groom - sat in the bridal chamber, tapping her foot, anxious and a little bit surly. The other bridesmaids - Ginny and Pansy - were busy fussing with their own hair and makeup. Pansy, who'd designed and made all of their dresses, was also going around making last-minute, magical adjustments.

As much as Hermione and Pansy didn't get along, Hermione had to admit that she'd done a fantastic job on the gowns. And when she told Pansy that, earlier in the day, Parkinson had surprised her with a shocked smile, a thank you, and no biting response.

Snakes and lions, getting along. Some of them getting married. What was the world coming to?

While Hermione tapped her toes and Pansy and Ginny fussed and flittered, Daphne - _the bride,_ the one they were all there to support and celebrate with - fussed with her maid of honor's hair as if the day revolved around the younger Greengrass sister, as opposed to the older one.

"It has to be perfect," Astoria said, gazing at herself in the mirror. Astoria's hair was long and dark, nearly black, and Daphne was using a spell to pin it up in big, elegant curls. The style itself was much more complicated than Daphne's, much more elaborate. Hermione found it very tacky to try and upstage the bride.

Daphne - again, _the bride _\- had gotten ready in a matter of minutes. She kept saying that it didn't _really _matter what she looked like, as long Ron thought she looked nice. The first time she said it, Hermione had rolled her eyes at the theatrics, but after spending an entire day with the bride-to-be, Hermione had realized she meant it. She really meant it.

"Done," Daphne said with a smile, straightening up and absently smoothing her pearlescent dress, which Pansy had charmed to have no wrinkles.

"I just _have_ to win him over tonight," Astoria said, a stern look on her beautiful face. "Tonight's the night, you know? We've never found the right time, but I just _know _tonight will do it. It's going to be so special."

Daphne nodded and gave her sister a small smile, and when she looked away, she shook her head before she turned to Hermione. "Hermione, do you need anything?"

Hermione really wanted to dislike Daphne. She really, _really _wanted to. Not because she still harbored feelings for Ron - that ship never even truly even left the harbor, let alone sailed - but because Daphne was _so _pretty, and seemed so nice, and was just all around all the things Hermione had never quite figured out how to be. Hermione very much wanted to _find_ a reason to hate her, but, after a whole day with her, surrounded by her atrocious younger sister, Hermione could no longer pretend to think of Daphne as anything other than what she was - a genuinely lovely witch, inside and out.

"No, thank you," Hermione said, putting her best effort into her smile, for the first time wanting it to be genuine. "Here, you've had a curl come loose. Let me get it for you."

Daphne took the seat that Astoria had vacated and smiled nervously into the mirror. Her makeup was light, and her long, honey blonde hair was pulled half up with tasteful curls. She was a vision. Ron wouldn't know what to do with himself and Hermione found herself smiling as she imagined him when he first saw his bride.

"I'm so nervous," Daphne admitted, biting her bottom lip and looking at Hermione in the mirror. Hermione put her hands on Daphne's shoulders and gave them a small squeeze. They weren't friends, but they'd spent a fair amount of time together since she and Ron got together. Hermione hadn't, up until this point, put forth much effort at all, and suddenly she felt the need to rectify that.

"Of _course_ you're nervous. You're marrying a Weasley," she deadpanned, then smirked to take the edge out of her words. She leaned down slightly and met Daphne's gaze in the mirror. "It's your wedding day. You're supposed to be nervous." She gave Daphne's shoulders another squeeze.

Daphne laughed and ducked her head, then looked up again. "I love him. _So_ much," she said, her green eyes big and round. "It's a little pathetic, really, how much. I'm surprised I didn't run him off." Her blush was so flattering, and her voice so sincere, it was all Hermione could do not to hug her as she might a younger sibling.

"It's not pathetic. Not even a little," Hermione said, a genuine smile finding her lips. "I've known Ronald since we were eleven. He's the _least_ considerate, and least observant friend I have. But with you, I see it in his eyes. Ever since you agreed to see him, he's become a new man. All he wants is for you to be happy. He's _mad_ about you." She squeezed her shoulders again. "I'm truly happy you found each other."

Daphne stood and faced Hermione, then pulled her into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad we're friends," Daphne said, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt for all the negative things she'd thought about Daphne over the last couple of years. Daphne pulled back and eyed Hermione appreciatively. "And might I say, you're killing it in that dress. Maybe some dashing wizard will catch your eye tonight," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed. It was _very _hard not to like Daphne Greengrass. "Oh, I don't know about that. But thank you for picking such lovely dresses for us to wear. I've been to a few weddings where the bridesmaids' dresses were _truly _atrocious."

Daphne just smiled and shrugged before being called by Astoria to touch up makeup. _Again._

Hermione's dress hugged her waist, then flared out softly to her knees. The straps were thick, covering the tops of her shoulders, and the neckline was squared. Daphne had insisted that her bridesmaids each choose their own color, but Hermione hadn't wanted to choose hers, so Daphne chose a dress in the same color as Hermione's Yule Ball gown - periwinkle. Only a truly _good _person would want her bridesmaids to feel beautiful on _her_ wedding day.

* * *

Even though Hermione was happy for Ron, and even though she was happy that all of her other friends were happily married or in love, Hermione found that the closer the ceremony got, the sadder she felt. She looked at Daphne, and the look in her eyes - starry and anxious to marry her love - made a pit form in Hermione's stomach. Harry and Ginny had been married for over a year and were most definitely still in their honeymoon phase. Even sweet Luna was madly, _grossly_ in love with none other than Blaise Zabini. And Hermione was happy for them, but she'd also not had a proper date in nearly two years. It was enough to make anyone surly, or weepy, or any number of things.

But now wasn't the time for that.

Daphne was sweet, and smart, and loved her friend. Never had Hermione seen Ron so happy, so confident. Today was his day - _their_ day - so Hermione would just have to suck it up and smile. She shoved those feelings back into the pit where she kept them and plastered a smile on her face.

Hermione took a deep breath as she prepared to walk down the aisle with her assigned groomsman. They'd been paired because he'd been asked to be a groomsman as a favor to the bride, and since Hermione was in a similar situation, they were stuck at the end of the row, together, which meant they were first in the processional.

No pressure.

Harry was with Astoria would go last, just before Daphne, as best man and maid of honor. Beside them were Ginny and Neville, then Blaise and Pansy, and finally, Hermione and Draco.

Hermione had been as shocked as anyone when Ron had asked Draco to be in the wedding. They all knew it was for Daphne - they'd been friends since they were small - but what had been truly surprising was how much effort Ron had put forth to be _nice_ to him since they announced their engagement. They'd even, to some degree, become friends.

Because of Ron and Daphne's whirlwind romance, they'd all been getting along. Whoever would have thought it was _Ron _that bridged the gap between the Gryffindors and Slytherins? Hermione and Draco weren't friends, per se, but they got along well enough. And now, he was walking toward her as the string quartet started to play. Thinking of walking out in front of all those people, all of who knew she was single and had at once time, very briefly, dated Ron, was making her stomach hurt. She pasted on a smile and prepared for the worst.

"Granger," he said, his voice low. "Think we can make it all the way down the aisle without killing each other?" He smirked, his tone of voice playful. He offered her his arm, and she took it, somehow feeling a bit more at ease.

"I give it a 50% possibility," she said, and he chuckled.

"If nothing else, it'll make a good show, yeah?" His smiled and Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little, slightly thrown off by just how nice he was being.

A new song started and Hermione took a deep breath. "That's our cue."

In sync, as they'd practiced, Hermione and Draco started the procession down the aisle. Cameras flashed and they both made sure to smile, even as people murmured behind their hands as they passed. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. They expected them to fight. To glare. She was so sick of all of it.

"They expect us to argue or something," Draco said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, and Hermione felt herself blush at his proximity. "The question is, do we give them what we _want,_ or something even better?"

The walk was long - the byproduct of having over 500 guests in attendance - and Hermione glanced up at her blonde counterpart. "What did you have in mind?"

He smirked and adjusted his grip on her arm. "Something small - we don't want to steal the show from the happy couple - but something _surprising_." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she coudln't stop her smile.

Before she could ask what that _something_ might be, they'd reached the front.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, but before she could answer - she would have said, definitively, _no_ \- he grabbed her around the waist, spun her once, and dipped her as if they'd been dancing. She couldn't help but laugh as the crowd tittered with approval. Draco lifted her to her feet, bowed over her hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles, then guided her up to her spot on the small stage before taking his own directly across from her. The smile on her face was genuine, her cheeks pink, and when she caught Ron's eye a moment later, he was smiling broadly at her.

As if taking their cue, the other groomsmen and bridesmaids all did a little something near the end of the aisle. Blaise twirled Pansy, letting her knee-length, coral red dress spin out. Neville and Ginny did a jig, reminiscent of the dance they'd learned for the Yule Ball, and Harry dipped Astoria, much like Draco had dipped her, though without the brush of lips on knuckles at the end, and with less authentic smiles.

When she was righted, Astoria shot a quick glare at Hermione, which caught Hermione completely off guard, then smiled brilliantly at Draco. Hermione followed Astoria's gaze to Draco, and her breath hitched when she saw Draco looking, not at Astoria, but at her with an expression that could only be described as _smoldering. _Her cheeks heated and Draco smirked.

Surely this was still part of the show, part of the _something better _to give the press to write about, the crowd to talk about. So, playing her part, she winked, and she saw his smirk grow. Neither saw Astoria look between them and nearly stomp to her place in line beside where her sister would stand.

When Daphne walked out, all eyes turned to her, but Hermione looked to Ron. She watched his smile stretch across his face, watched his eyes grow misty. The sixth of seventh children, the best friend of the most famous wizard their age, it was nice to see her friend in the spotlight and so genuinely happy for once.

The wedding itself was short and sweet. The vows they wrote themselves were beautiful - even Ron's. And when it was time to exit, to go take photos before the reception, Hermione felt strangely peaceful. She'd expected to feel melancholy, as she often did after a wedding ceremony, but instead, she just felt warm and happy. When she took Draco's arm again, the last in the line to leave the stage, she smiled without having to remind herself to do so.

"Up for another spectacle?" he asked, leaning down, his lips nearly touching her ear. The crowd was watching them as if they expected it, and Hermione shrugged, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

"Why not?" she said, and she thought she saw his smirk turn into a full smile before he dropped her arm, spun her around, and lifted her over his shoulder, gripping her legs so she wouldn't fall.

She shrieked, then laughed and waved to the crowd as he carried her down the aisle, thrown over his shoulder like some sort of caveman. She felt him adjust his grip on her, and she realized he was making sure her dress was pinned to her legs so her bum wouldn't show. Surprisingly considerate for a Slytherin. The crowd seemed to really love it as they smiled and whispered behind their hands and snapped photos.

When they finally were away from the crowd, he gently lowered her, his chest sliding against hers as her feet touched the ground. She laughed as she took a step back.

"That _was_ quite the spectacle," she said, her cheeks a brilliant shade of pink. "It's too bad the show has to be over." Without a crowd to perform for, she knew they would go back to polite interactions.

Draco nodded and offered her his arm again. "I'd like to up the ante, if you're game," he said as her arm slipped against his forearm. "I didn't bring a date," he said as he led them toward the garden where photos were to be taken. "Did you?"

"No," she said, narrowing her eyes at him, wondering where this was going, a foreign and not entirely unwelcome hope blooming in her chest.

"Well, be my date tonight, then, Granger." He glanced down at her. "Purely for sake of spectacle and intrigue." He was wearing his smirk, but she thought he almost sounded nervous. _Almost._ "Think of how people will react. Think of how it'll play in the _Prophet_ tomorrow."

Hermione smiled as they walked out into the garden. Astoria's eyes tracked them as they entered together, arm-in-arm, and she shot daggers at them with her eyes. Hermione's smile fell. It was fairly clear that the man Astoria had mentioned earlier, the one she wanted to snag, was the man currently on her arm.

"Er, I'm not so sure Astoria will be OK with that," she said out of the side of her mouth. "She seems to have her eye on you, and I'd hate to wreck your chances of an _actual _date by having a pretend one with me." She slipped her arm from his to face him.

Draco grimaced. "If it's all the same to you, please _do_ wreck my chances. She's been after me for years, and I just, I just can't." He cleared his throat and slipped his hands into the pockets of his muggle trousers. "Please? I'll owe you one."

Hermione looked up at him, and was again struck by the look in his eyes. Possible nervous, but _s__moldering,_ for sure. "Alright," she said, and he relaxed. If he could up the ante, she could, too. "But, listen. Fake or no, I expect the _full_ date experience," she said, trying for playful. The look her gave her said he was taking her very seriously.

He leaned down, his lips nearly against her ear. His breath brushed her ear as he said, "Ask and you shall receive."

She didn't have time to respond as the photographer spotted them and dragged them over, Hermione's cheeks bright red. As they took photos, Draco would catch her eye, that intense look still in his eyes, and her cheeks would heat again.

* * *

By the time photos were done, Hermione was nervous - truly nervous - about her "date" with Draco Malfoy. What had started as a spectacle and become, at least in her mind, a real, valid possibility for a _date. _

She watched Astoria approach him from across the garden - surprised at the flare of jealousy she felt, which she quickly tamped down - just after she, Harry, and Ron took a final photo. Astoria leaned in and said something to Draco, her hand on his arm. Hermione watched Draco pull away and shake his head. Astoria found Hermione across the garden and glared at her before stomping away.

When Draco walked toward her immediately after, her heart started doing strange things in her chest. This was a fake date. A _fake_ one. But in this moment, as he walked away from a gorgeous witch who just oozed sex appeal toward her, she didn't feel like it was fake. Harry and Ron were pulled away by their respective wives, and Hermione was left alone as Draco stopped in front of her.

"Ready for our _date_, Granger?" he asked as he reached her, standing just a bit closer than was necessary, and offering her - not his arm, but his hand. She took it, his fingers warm as they wrapped around hers, and plastered a smirk on her face to mask her nervousness, hoping her hand didn't tremble in his.

"More than ready," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and he smiled. He led her into the reception, to the table reserved for the bridal party, and sat them as far from Astoria - who was now shooting Avadas at them with her eyes - as he could.

The reception, like the wedding, was simple, if large, and truly lovely. There was delicious food, tasteful music, and a dance floor lit with fairy lights and floating candles. But if she were being honest, Hermione had trouble focusing on anything but the man beside her_._

The whole time, as promised, he played his part of date, giving her _the full date experience, _just as she'd asked. He poured her champagne. He whispered comments about the other people, the food, the music in her ear with his arm draped loosely over the back of her chair. And most of all, he made her laugh. He made her laugh a lot. More than she'd laughed in, possibly, years.

When the dancing started, she was only mildly surprised when he stood and offered her his hand. She took it, no hesitation, and when he pulled her onto the dance floor and held her close - right up against his chest - she let herself pretend that this _was _a real date. It couldn't hurt to let herself get lost in the fantasy, to feel the loneliness she lived with melt away, even if it was only for tonight.

"Having a good time?" he asked, his lips by her ear again. She suppressed a shiver as his warm hand spanned her back and his other gently cradled her hand against his shoulder.

"I really am," she said, opting for honesty. She smiled and let herself inhale his clean scent. "A surprisingly good time."

He shifted against her as he readjusted his grip, pulling her even closer. "Good," he said, resting his cheek against her temple. He cleared his throat quietly. "Want to up the stakes again?" he asked, his voice low. He sounded, again, nervous. Hermione's stomach flipped.

She nodded, too nervous to answer. She was afraid her voice would tremble and she'd give herself away.

"What would you say if I asked to make this a _real _date?" His voice was low, and this time she knew he was _definitely _sounded nervous.

"A real date?" she asked quietly, leaning back to look at his face. His eyes were open, not-quite-warm, but _expectant_. "You want to be on a date, a _real_ date, with me?"

He nodded, and she thought he might be breathing a little fast. She chewed the inside of her lips.

"I think I might like that," she said, and he relaxed instantly, a big, full smile stretching across his face.

He pulled her close again and danced her around the room. He held her more loosely, but somehow more possessively, now.

When the song was over, he let go of her, only to take her hand and pull into his side. His arm slipped around her waist, his hand rested on her hip, and she blushed. He touched her for the rest of the night - holding her to his side, tracing little patterns on her hips, playing with her fingers - and giving her all of his attention. When he saw people he knew, he shook their hands and introduced her, keeping her in their conversations, but never letting go of her. When her friends approached, looking unsure of how to interpret what was happening between them, he charmed them. When no one else was around, he still whispered things in her ear that made her laugh. They avoid Astoria, and the entire night was spent in a sort of lovely, hazy dream-like state.

By midnight, the reception was still going strong. Hermione and Draco had retired to their table again, and she found herself leaning against his shoulder as they watched people dance. His hand on her waist was warm and secure. She yawned, but tried to hide it behind her hand, really not wanting the night - the date - to end.

"I think that's our cue," Draco said into her ear, and she sighed. "Let me walk you to the floo."

She nodded, and he helped her stand and laced their fingers together as they slipped out away from the crowd.

"So, did you have fun tonight?" he asked as he led her toward the floo, away from the noise of the reception that still raged behind them.

"I really did," she admitted, smiling down at the floor. "Honestly, I'd intended to be in the ceremony, have some photos, and sneak away. I was really dreading this whole thing."

"Still pining away for Weasley?" he asked, a faux smile on his face.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, leaning against his side. His arm instantly went around her shoulders. "No. I was just dreading yet another wedding, alone." She looked up at him. "But then you swooped in and saved the night, as it were."

He chuckled and squeezed her hand, the nervousness back in his voice. "Who would have ever thought Hermione Granger would, not only _go _on a date with Draco Malfoy, but would enjoy it?"

"This whole day has been full of surprises," she said, heart fluttering in her chest.

"I had fun, too," he said, before he cleared his throat. "Just so we're clear on that."

She bit her lip and smiled up at him, the floo room quickly approaching.

"Maybe we could do this again," he said, clearing his throat again. He was nervous, that was certain. "Not go to a wedding, obviously, but go out. On a date." His hand rested on her shoulder and she felt it spasm. She made Draco Malfoy nervous, and somehow, that gave her a surge of confidence she'd never before possessed.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked, stopping just before the floo to turn toward him.

She was met with a beautiful half-smile, very different from his smirk, but no less _Draco_. "I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"Perfect." She ducked her head as she blushed again, and took a deep breath. "Aren't you supposed to at least _try_ to kiss a girl goodnight after a brilliant first date?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her cheeks a brilliant crimson.

He smiled and stepped forward. His hands found her waist and hers went to his shoulders, as if they might dance. He took a deep breath through his nose as he leaned forward, and when his lips touched hers, she smiled against them, relaxing as if she had just slipped into a warm bath. His lips were soft. His hands on her were light. And when he pulled away from the kiss, her cheeks burned brightly.

"Brilliant first date, huh?" he asked, and she laughed.

"All that means is that tomorrow's date has to be even better," she said, quirking her eyebrow at him. He laughed and surprised her by kissing her again, stealing her breath, and pressing his body against hers in a way that made her want to moan - though of course, she didn't.

"I'll take that challenge," he said, his lips just above hers, and she surprised them both by surging forward and kissing him just one more time.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said, finally releasing her.

She stepped back and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "See you then."

With a last look, she turned, and stepped through the floo, calling out her address in the process. As she swirled away, she thought she saw him smile.

That night, she fell asleep with her fingers to her lips and a smile on her face.

* * *

The next day she went through the routine of any Saturday. She cleaned and straightened up. She went to the market. And she panicked over what to wear. By 6:30, she was sitting at her kitchen table, tapping her foot impatiently, ready for her date in skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a loose tunic, dressed up with some rose-gold jewelry. Thirty minutes. She could wait thirty minutes. Thirty minutes wasn't so long. And yet, it suddenly felt like an impossibly long time to wait. All day, she managed to keep the memories of the night before at bay in order to get her chores done, but now that it was so close to the time when she would see him again, they'd come rushing forth and it was all she could do not to go find him.

With a huff, she walked to her door and looked out the peephole, as if by doing so she could magically make him appear.

With a gasp, she jumped back, a smile on her face. He was out there. Thirty minutes early. She peeked again, sure to be quiet, and saw him reach up as if to knock, then stop himself and shake his head. He went to walk away, then stopped and turned back. He did it all again, and she covered her mouth to hide a laugh. She wasn't the only one who was anxious. A new burse of confidence surged forth.

When he went to almost-knock again, she opened the door, relishing in the look of surprise on his normally confident face.

"I'm early," he said, and she grinned broadly, her heart fluttering.

"I noticed." She bit her lip and shrugged. "I'm ready if you are."

His surprised expression fell into a huge smile and he nodded, holding out his hand for her. Eagerly, she took it, relishing in the feeling of his warm palm against her. "Oh, Granger. I'm more than ready for this."


End file.
